


I Can Say It If In My Dreams

by soda_coded



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Dysphoria, Gen, Self-Discovery, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_coded/pseuds/soda_coded
Summary: Yennefer gets what she's always wanted.For now, anyway. Next step, the world.





	I Can Say It If In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Moonlight Densetsu. I would love a world where our bodes were a joyful choice, instead of a hard won goal.

Yennefer sat in the hay, twirling a bit of it between her fingers and listened to a thrice removed cousin, fuck a twice removed cousin. She doubted they even knew, but the legacy of her spine had given her a curiosity for the bloodlines comprising her corner of Vengerberg. Maybe she wanted to assure herself that no matter how lovely the visage, their blood was as dirty as hers.

“Oh, you do like that, don’t you, filthy boy-”

The first time she’d heard had been an accident. This shed was the farthest on her father’s extensive property, which she supposed she should be proud of. The most sizable in Vengerberg. An empire of pig shit. Still the size gave her places to hide, shadows to sit in, away from sunlight and eyes. It was on a day where she had deemed it smart to tuck herself away, that she’d first heard her distant kin engaging in carnal delight, their squeals not unlike that of the pigs.

Then, it made her cheeks burn. She’d cowered from the sound, delight in any form something she was uniquely unaccustomed to. They hadn’t taken long, maybe twenty minutes, although they’d lain in her not-father’s hay and talked for much longer, voices as soft as the setting sun. They’d talked so long, trapping her in the shadows of the stall, that she’d been beaten for returning home after sundown.

She’d come back, anyway. She didn’t know why.

Now, she’d listened to the ritual of their pleasure so often that she could deduce the exact moment that power changed hands. Gretchen, exceptionally fair and with a high dowry being Vren the Baker’s daughter, was very vocal. Demanding and spoilt in a way Yennefer couldn’t fathom being, and Kirren, Madge’s third eldest son, with no prospects and a pimply nose seemed to reward this behavior with effusive service.

And yet the second he got his cock in her, she was just another sow.

Yennefer wondered what power felt like, the bit of straw she held crumbling onto her sweating palms. 

  
  
  


She was not Istredd’s first. She could tell from the confidence of his touch, from the way he tried to tame her tongue with his, to guide her in her pleasure, instead of letting her take it for herself.

Tissaia had taught her to learn when the opportunity presented itself, so Yennefer learned what he taught. She learned how to sigh and to coo, how to wonder at his cock as though it was more than a piece of flesh and when she'd learned all she could from his pleasure, she learned to take her own.

In her other lessons, she was learning to move mountains with her mind. It didn't feel fair to find her pleasure secondary, but when had life been fair?

  
  
  


And then the betrayal and her missed initiation and Yennefer knew, she'd seen the weakness in his eyes that he would say yes. He'd wanted to make her beautiful, and she wanted to be beautiful.

A better match than her and Istredd.

Still, when he ripped the little malignant hunks from her, he was sweating. Yennefer was crying more than sweating, nude as she was, but she still felt no sorrow when he placed it onto the brazier. A strip of fatty bacon to the pan.

While they watched her chance at any twisted progeny of her own burn, he asked her. "What will you want?"

"Fuller breasts." Yennefer told him, unashamed. "Hips that look like they could still bear. A waist that looks like it would fit in your palm."

He's smiling at her, their pain bonding them as surely as the illicitness of their act. Yennefer wondered what he looked like before his own ritual, what he'd look like as an eel once Tissaia discovered what she'd made him do.

Tried to read it in his eyes and was shocked by what she found. She hadn't known there was a magic so powerful as to answer wishes and dreams. Yennefer hadn’t  _ thought _ , until this moment, seeing him frolicking long haired and pinafored, one girl of six.

"What else?" He asked her, and Yennefer wanted- she wanted-

"Maybe a little surprise for the king, if Nilfgaard is where I go." She said, and when he cocked an orange-gold brow at her, she flicked her eyes between her legs. His eyebrows rose. "Maybe not so little?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"I thought no challenge was too great." Yennefer said, but the hunger had her, the swelling need now that she was so close to truly getting everything she'd wanted of herself. It broke through in her voice.

"A surprise it will certainly be." He told her, but he winked when he said it. Later, standing before the mirror, her new cock was the most gorgeous weapon she'd ever seen. Now, he asked her again. "But if you're sure…?"

"Yes." She told him and sounded so certain, that this time he smiled even as she cracked beneath his brush, smelt and recast in her own ideal.


End file.
